


Cold December

by shiroganerd



Category: Persona 3
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depression, Gen, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 00:54:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiroganerd/pseuds/shiroganerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A very short series of drabbles regarding the month Ryoji spent alone with his thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold December

_One, two, three, four, five, six._

He knew after one that it hadn't worked, but had done all six just to be sure. Nope, definitely didn't work.

He coughed and spluttered and gagged and spit six shiny bullets into his hand.

 

* * *

 

The screen of his phone lit up. Another text from Junpei-kun.

_hey buddy, were all worried about u. txt back and let us kno ur doin ok._

They were all going to die and it was his fault.

Why were they worried about him? He didn't deserve it.

He turned his phone off.

 

* * *

 

He knew from the battle with Aigis.

He'd emerged unscathed, and with no effort at all had rendered her completely helpless. Broken. Battered. Something no other creature, human or Shadow, had ever done.

The only person who could leave any sort of mark on him...

 _Minako_...

He sighed and dragged the blade across his skin anyway.

The unblemished porcelain wrist taunted him.

 

* * *

 

Another swig, this time taking several large gulps.

He'd heard that it was supposed to fill your brain with a pleasant haze, maybe one that would calm his restless thoughts, at least for a few hours. He also figured that if the first three bottles that night hadn't done anything, the fourth probably wouldn't either.

Another swig.

It didn't even taste like sake anymore.

 

* * *

 

The legs of the heavy chair scraped noisily as he kicked it out from under his feet. He wondered dully how long it took for a normal person to lose consciousness like this.

Minutes passed. He should have known this would happen.

He sighed and reached behind his head to cut the rope.

 

* * *

 

He knew he didn't need it, but that didn't stop him from trying to sleep. His aching mind needed rest, and he longed for something – _anything_ – to numb the pain of wakefulness.

The harder he tried, though, the clearer it became that sleep would not come, and instead he would be tortured with images of his dear friends who would soon (but not soon enough) die because of him.

He squeezed his eyes shut, but the eerie green glow of the Dark Hour reached him through the blackness.

 

* * *

 

When he brought his hand up to cross another day off the calendar (had it really only been a week?), a glint of light from his finger caught his eye. He still hadn't taken off the thin silver ring he had bought in Kyoto.

“Minako...” His voice was hoarse from disuse.

When the day finally came, he would give her that ring.

Just so that when she forgot everything, maybe, just maybe, she would remember how much he'd loved her.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, so my first fic on AO3 is... not a pleasant one. Had to get the ideas out of my head, though, so here we are. I'm hoping to write more (and happier) stuff in the near future. Thanks for reading!


End file.
